Quickies
by Sherry Marie
Summary: OP YAOI drabbles. Mostly ZxS, but other pairings are starting to make appearances.
1. Hey Zoro

"Hey Zoro."

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor, will you?"

"What?" replied the swordsman sounding distracted, which, of course, was perfectly understandable given their current situation.

"This is important, asshole."

Zoro turned an irritated look in Sanji's direction.

"What?!?"

"Just..." the blonde squirmed uncomfortably, "well, just, don't, you know, tell me that you love me or anything."

The swordsman's jaw dropped. He opened and closed his mouth three times before actual sound was produced.

"Wh---Why in the HELL would I do that?"

A huge jolt lurched them forward from were they stood, with their bodies pressed against the splintering wooden door, as their enemies increased their efforts to get into the small room where both swordsman and cook were trapped.

"Well," Sanji began slowly, sounding as if he was speaking to a retarded puppy, "because you do."

"Prove it!" Zoro shot back in reflex.

Sanji rolled his eyes even as he strained to hold the door closed. 

"You're an idiot. Anyway, since were trapped here, with a fucking army just about to break though, and seeing that our chances of surviving look like absolute shit, I don't want you picking the moment to confess your feelings. Whenever that happens in a book, one or both of the characters wind up dying. I don't want to risk some sappy cliché."

There was a long weighted pause, as the shouts from the other side increased in fury.

"You're fucking insane."

"What the hell ever. Just keep your mouth SHUT, and wait to tell me after we get out of this, OK?"

With a snarl, Zoro slammed his shoulder hard into the weakening door, startling their attackers on the other side with the force of the blow. He stepped back, and was fully armed before Sanji saw him draw his first weapon. He spoke with short, clipped words around the hilt between his teeth.

"Fine. I will."

Sanji jumped back just as the door shattered into a thousand pieces.


	2. To Know

His strength is never in question. Its what he is; the presence he brings to this world. To have eyes is to first know this. Surface strength written like poetry in each flex of flesh, curve of muscle raised and hardened through time and purpose. You cannot help but be drawn to him, though few have dared to reach out with questing fingers, to read skin mapped with scars and abrasions like Braille.

I have dared.

I have felt them rough against the smoother pads of my fingers, pressed them down with the sensitive flat of my tongue. I have learned that each aspect of his body leads to the ruin of his chest, the strike of skin ripped and mended marred. He laughs into the dark at my preoccupation, when my hands settle there, urgent and expected, rubbing against the raise softly, and then roughly, as I try to pry a path inside.

It is in there that I know him, and am known in turn; it is inside, past all things material, where his true power pulses. Purpose and goals that have tossed him to the sea, given him to this crew, and placed him here, on this ship, between my thighs, sweat slicked tension in the moonlight.

And it is later, with limbs tangled like a slanted puzzle, as the sounds of his snores drag across my ear, that I am most in awe of the might of this man. This is power in repose, the strength of one who is not the best but will be, who carries a soul and resolution in the shape of a sword, gripped tight between the bone of his teeth.


	3. Stimulation

"Why are you back so soon? I thought you were going to that weapon shop that we saw in town."

"It, uh, wasn't a weapon shop." 

"No?"

"No. It had books. Books with pictures."

Sanji raised a fine eyebrow.

"Pictures of girl's...stuff, and, you know, guy's wangs."

There was a pause while Sanji took a deep drag on his cigarette.

"You call it a 'wang'?"

"What do you call it?"

"Well—"

"No. Never mind. Anyway, I have no interest in that sort of thing"

"There's a shocker."

"Its pretty sick, if you ask me, that they would just put something like that in the middle of the street, where just ANYONE could wander in, and what the fuck is that suppose to mean?"

"It means, Idiot, that I'm not surprised that something like that would fail to...stimulate you."

"What are you saying, you Bastard Cook?!? I'll have you know that I get stimulated all the time! All over the god damn place!"

"Yeah? Well, what about that marine girl?"

Zoro paused.

"What about her?"

"She's cute, albeit pretty dim, and completely into you. And all you do is run away each time she gets near you."

"I run away because she wants to ARREST me."

"If that's all you think she wants to do with you, then you have just proven my point."

Zoro's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You act like you know everything, but you don't know the first thing about what 'stimulates' me. Maybe she just doesn't piss me off enough to hold my attention."

It was a very long moment before Sanji found his voice.

"Are you coming on to me?"

"Idiot. You're such an idiot."

"Really?" Sanji replied softly, with just the faintest bit of hope lighting his eyes.

This time, Zoro smiled back.

"Idiot."


	4. Leaks

It had all started as a really nice idea. Surprisingly, it had been ZORO's idea, and considering that the man was about as romantic as a constipated hedgehog, an offer of a ferry ride to a neighboring island was too appealing for the Cook to pass up. The crew had been in port for a few days, resting and replenishing supplies, so it seemed the perfect opportunity for the two men to spend a pleasant afternoon together.

Once they had made it to the small grassy island, it didn't take them very long to ditch the locals.

Later, the fragrant grass had felt especially soft against Sanji's naked skin. His eyes were heavy, but as he moved to rise, rough calloused hands had pushed him back down.

"The boat—"

"Don't worry about it, Cook. I'll wake you up before it leaves."

And, because all of his common sense had been wonderfully pulled from his body only minutes before, he had surrendered to sleep.

The snores beside his ear were what finally woke him up. He sat up abruptly, dislodging the arm that was draped across his chest, and waking the owner.

Before either one could speak, thunder echoed loudly, as if following a comedic cue.

So, that was how they ended up here with Zoro scrambling to finish the makeshift shelter he had hastily constructed, as sheets of rain beat down. Sanji smoked in silence.

Despite his annoyance, Sanji had to admit that the asshole was cute when he was flustered. Maybe he would tell him that. Maybe he would tell him about the village that was located at the bottom of the next hill. The day was still filled with possibilities. But for now, he said,

"Its still leaking in the corner."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, you wish."


	5. Supply and Demand

The first couple of hours really hadn't had been so bad. But now, as Sanji observed the last rays of the sun sink below the horizon, he was feeling downright bitchy.

An entire day had passed since he had last had a cigarette. To make matters worse, it would be another two days before they would be at the next supply port.

Not wanting to risk taking out his foul temper on Nami-san and Vivi-chan, he had spent most of the day avoiding his crewmates. He had been sitting here, quietly, out of everyone's way, minding his own miserable sulky business, until Zoro had walked up, and without a word, sat down next to him. And immediately took a nap. Even though there was tons of open space all over the ship, the swordsman just had to choose the space right next to Sanji to sleep. Unconscious fucker.

At that moment, Sanji hated him with every nicotine-deprived nerve in his body.

He wondered at the morality of kicking an unarmed sleeping man in the head.

He wondered if he cared.

He was leaning towards no.

"It's your own fault, you know."

The asshole was awake. Good. There was no need for further debate. He flexed his leg muscles.

"Smoking is a disgusting habit. It makes you stink, and your mouth tastes like an ash tray."

And just like that, he was back asleep.

Sanji smiled his first real smile in hours. He leaned over, very close to Zoro, until his lips brushed against the rim of the sleeping man's ear.

"Hey, Asshole, are you awake?"

Only deep even breaths answered him.

"Know what? We're out of booze, too."

He planted a soft peck to Zoro's tan brow.

"Sweet dreams."


	6. Bothered

Sanji closed his eyes tightly, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up into a slightly ludicrous sated smile as he concentrated on the lovely melody of panted breath brushing warmly against the corner of his ear. His lover had moved off of him only moments before, and the cook's bare skin was only beginning to be cooled by the intrusive breeze entering the room through the open window.

"Were too."

His smile fell away, as his mouth twisted in irritation. Trust Zoro to ruin the moment by doing something stupid. Like talking.

"Was not." he replied.

"Were too."

Irritation was quickly warming to anger.

"Aren't you capable of saying anything else, Idiot? And I was not."

"Yes you were. Why don't you just admit it, Cook?"

Sanji sat up abruptly.

"Listen, I'm only going to say this one more time, so you better let it seep into that thick skull of yours. I couldn't give a shit WHO you choose to smile at. I'm certainly not going to get all jealo—concerned about it. And, I mean, she wasn't even that pretty! Not that that matters, or anything, since I don't care—are you laughing at me?"

The suspicious sounds immediately subsided into the darkness beside him.

"You're an asshole. And I have better things to do with my time then to get bothered by the shit that you do."

Zoro sat up, and then leaned into, way into, the blonde's personal space. Caught off guard, Sanji was too surprised to react to the sudden closeness. Their lips were touching, but not quite kissing, as the swordsman spoke in a low deliberate tone.

"Really? Don't I bother you?"

And the cook was bothered most by how quickly he leaned in to be bothered some more.


	7. The Bet

Sanji had to keep reminding himself not to bite down. He knew from much experience that biting ruined the effect that this slow deliberate sucking produced. Sure, it gave him momentary satisfaction and filled his mouth quite delightfully, but it also ended things far too quickly. Yes, especially under these circumstances, slow and patient was the way to go.

"Doing OK down there, Cook?"

Sanji looked up from where he was sitting and eased the candy from between sticky lips.

"You're a fucker. And I hate you." He replied in a flat voice.

The candy was promptly returned to its previous position. Sucking resumed.

Like most of the ridiculous things that happened in his life, this current situation was all Zoro's fault. Zoro, whose fourth favorite thing in life (right after fighting, sleeping, and fucking Sanji; not necessarily, but most likely, in that order) was boasting about how tough he was, and then following it up with number five, which was telling Sanji how tough he WASN'T in comparison.

Thus, the bet.

To prove his toughness, Zoro had challenged the blonde to give up cigarettes for a month. Angry, Sanji had hastily accepted. But, in turn, he had challenged the other man to give up something he craved just as fiercely. Sex with Sanji.

It had been an incredibly long week for both of them.

A warm weight settled at his side.

"Does it taste good?"

Suddenly feeling inspired, Sanji removed the candy, leaned over, and kissed Zoro hotly. As he slowly pulled back, he noted the desperate way Zoro's hand gripped the railing above his head. Sanji's voice adopted its silkiest tones.

"There's a taste. What do you think? Want some more?"

He smugly licked his lips thinking of the cigarettes stashed in the pantry and of other more immediate things, as the swordsman's hands trembled, before finally releasing their grip from the smooth railing.


	8. Surfaces

Mihawk presses his seal firmly into the dollop of red wax and efficiently seals the envelope. He picks it up and looks at it closely, as if still seeing its tucked away contents in the faint glow of the dwindling candlelight. Satisfied, he rises from his wooden desk, and places the envelope within the safe hidden along the far wall of his bedchamber.

His affairs are now neatly in order; his wishes transcribed to be executed whenever death comes for him.

And it is coming, of that he is certain.

The thought, as strange as the effect may seem, etches a wistful smile upon his thin careful lips. Despite the lateness of the hour, he does not retire to bed, but instead, returns to his desk. He leans back against the velvet-cushioned embrace of the chair, and his eyes, once again catching the light from the nearby candle, burn brightly their eerie gold.

His fingertip traces the mostly smooth surface of the desktop. He thinks about storms and about the hunt. He thinks of youth, goals, and impertinence. He thinks about a moment of recognition, the arc of his sword, the surface of a deck stained red.

His finger finds what it has been seeking across the desktop, and and it pauses, before slowly tracing the cracked raise section of uneven surface with sensuous care.

He thinks of the deep scar formed across the proud stretch of chest, about the heart hidden beneath; its sometimes erratic beat. He closes his eyes and imagines that it calls to him, like a beacon, or a song, or like destiny.

His hand stills, and he lifts it carefully from the wooden raise. He pinches the wick of the candle, burned low but not finished, and goes to sleep patiently in the shadows.


	9. Gift

"It's my birthday, you know."

Sanji's breath, heavy with liquor, ghosted over Zoro's brow, which was creased in concentration. The blond laughed heavily, deeply, and lightly bit at random sections against the cropped hairline.

"You said, Cook." Zoro reminded him, relaxing some of the tautness in his body as he settled deeper into the downy mattress. He absently felt the scratch of wayward feathers poking through to nip at the skin along the tight width of his shoulders, the rough patch of his elbow, the flush of his thighs.

A lesser man than he may have proved ticklish as the unusually soft strands of yellow hair moved down his body in the wake of slick inebriated lips. But he made no noise, showed no such weakness, and spread his legs just a little wider granting the access sought by a clever tongue.

His mouth twisted in smugness as slender hands pressed his folded legs close to his chest. There was no resistance from his body; the strain was not too great for him to bear. He had trained for years, was still training, to ensure that his body moved easily when circumstance demanded.

Positioned, Sanji smiled sloppily down at him, and he smiled back with victory.

"It's my birthday, you know."

"Yeah, you said."


	10. Observations

"Please tell me that you're not going to defend that woman's honor while your hand is wrapped around my dick."

"Just answer the question and tell me how you fucking know that."

Either the cook was too pissed off to know what he was doing, or he DID know and was that much of a sadistic bastard, but the squeeze that accompanied the last word of the demand just about drove all threads of their argument completely from Zoro's mind.

He must have taken too long to respond, because the fist around him tightened impatiently. Zoro grunted low in his throat, and then started to panic, just a little, as he felt more of his IQ drain deeper into the trapped appendage.

"Wha – about Nami?" he panted stupidly.

"Yes, you asshole. That thing you said."

"About how her carpet matches her drapes?" he offered in what he hoped was a helpful manner.

This time, the squeeze was accompanied with a tight pull that buckled Zoro's knees, and sent him to the floor. Sanji, never loosing contact, followed him down with a controlled grace of which the swordsman was no longer capable.

"YES. How. Do. You. Know. _That_."

The blond's hand moved forward and then back with each word, and then continued with an increased pace as he calmly waited for the other man's reply.

Zoro buried his head against Sanji's neck, and panted wetly,

"It's a small ship."

"So?" and the blond still sounded so fucking calm as he continued to thoroughly tear Zoro apart, that the swordsman concluded that he was going to have to kill the bastard post-orgasm.

Then, that thought left him too, and there was nothing else more to do but dig his fingers hard into Sanji's shoulders, arch his back, and gasp out,

"Namisin'ttheonlyonewholikestolook!"


	11. The Hiding of Thingies

"Do you hear anything, Cook?"

"Other than you breathing like an asthmatic walrus in my ear? Other than that, you mean?"

"Fuck off!"

"Sh! Idiot! Do you want to be found?"

There was a tense pause, before Zoro placed cool lips against the rim of Sanji's ear and breathed, "fuck off".

Sanji said nothing and reminded himself that there was very little chance that he could properly kick the swordsman in the cramped confines of the dark broom closet in which they had chosen to hide. He also reminded himself that considering the dire circumstances that had driven two of the strongest members of the crew to hide in said dark broom closet, there was no WAY any of this should be turning him on. God, he needed a cigarette.

"This is all so gross." Zoro whispered for about the sixteenth time that hour, "I mean, I didn't even know that Chopper had a, uh, you know, thingie. He hides it pretty well."

"Yes, well, they're called 'pants', Asshole. They come in pretty handy for The Hiding of Thingies."

"Well, if you're so smart, then why don't you tell me how come if this is suppose to be 'mating season' for reindeer, why Chopper keeps going after all of the MEN on the ship? Now that is just freaky."

"An interesting observation coming from a man whose hand is resting on my ass."

"I have to put it somewhere!"

"Stop talking to me."

There was a period of blessed silence, before Zoro began to shift pleasantly behind Sanji. The blond, who had been stuck all morning surrounded by the heat and scent of his irritating lover, finally gave in, and allowed himself to lean back into the wonderful weight of the other man.

"Hey, Cook?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to pee."


	12. Treasure

They are beautiful like this; moving against and between the sleepy haze of candlelight. Their shadow, which is barely separate from the prominent cocoon of outer darkness, is their only known companion during this time of heat and need and want.

But you are there. And even though you think this is not for you, you take it anyway, and stand unmoving, unnoticed, in the dark doorway of their stolen moment.

Your hands are empty, but still you feel the cords of muscle and skin moving beneath your fingertips. Standing silent, the sharp moan that rises from across the room, which is pain or pleasure but really both, feels pulled from your chest, and your throat aches from the phantom force of it. Your tongue is swollen and dry at rest behind your teeth, but it remembers or imagines the glistened tang of sultry sweat, which beads and slides around their connection.

He looks up, finally, and sees you seeing them, and understands, and forgives, and accepts. Because you are Nakama, and that means everything, including this, and you are privy to all treasure in Your World.


	13. Fruit and Junk

"It's weird, if you think about it."

That was from Zoro, sprawled out next to him, apparently still awake, which was unusual, since the asshole usually dropped unconscious before his head connected to the pillow after sex.

Considering that the statement was from out of nowhere, since they hadn't actually had any verbal communication with one another in what had to have been hours at this point, Sanji figured that he was under no obligation to respond to the babbling idiot.

"It's just that I thought that it would have been a kink for you."

Apparently, Sanji's lack of participation was simply not enough to stop the conversation from happening.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Having sex with food."

Sanji blinked at him stupidly.

"You, uh…. you wanna fuck food?"

Zoro looked at him blankly for a minute, before his face screwed up in disgust.

"That's fucking gross, you perverted shitty bastard!"

"How am I gross, Asshole? YOU said it!"

"I did not!"

"Yes, you DID, you slow-witted seaweed-head."

"That isn't what I meant!"

"Well, then what did you mean? Please, tell me. I really want to know."

The sarcasm was either ignored or missed completely.

"I meant like having sex with another PERSON, you, I guess," Sanji flipped him off, "and using food. Like, uh, fruit and junk."

"Oh, I see." Sanji raised his eyebrow. "You kinky little fuck."

"Not me! Its your kink!"

"It is NOT!"

"Well, it should be yours is all I'm saying, and could we just shut up and go to sleep?"

"That's fine with me. I have to get up early, anyway, Asshole."

Zoro said nothing, and Sanji could not help the wicked grin from stealing across his face.

"I have to go food shopping. For fruit and junk."


	14. Citrus

"THAT is what you came back with?"

"What's wrong with it? Its fruit."

"It's a LIME."

"Limes are fruit, you bastard."

"I thought that you were going to get, I dunno, sexy fruit, or something."

"Sexy fruit." he repeated.

Zoro ignored him.

"I mean, they're all bumpy and weird, and that funky green color. And they're bitter and nasty, not sweet. Why the hell would you pick a lime?"

Sanji jumped up and stood livid beside the bed.

"Some people, Asshole, for some unknown reason that absolutely fucking FREAKS them OUT if they think about it, so they just DON'T, might like that sort of thing. And you know what? It PISSES them off, so you should just shut your goddamn ugly mouth about it!"

Zoro fell silent.

Taking a deep breath to calm down, Sanji sat back down on the edge of the bed. He picked up the lime and a knife from the nightstand, watching the slight flex in the other man's tight stomach as filtered moonlight caught the edge of the sharp blade. The cook said nothing, but filed the reaction away.

Zoro folded his arms casually behind his head, but couldn't quite stop the hiss as the sectioned fruit began its juicy drag down his ruined chest.

"Limes." Zoro muttered as his eyes slipped shut.

"Yeah, well they may be a little hard to take, but they're actually pretty good for you", Sanji replied, as he bent to chase the tartness with the soft edge of his tongue.

"You're so fucking weird."

Sanji smirked as the other man started to pant.

"Tell me about it."

And later, when a sticky happy sleepy swordsman shyly muttered something about sorta liking lemons, Sanji could do nothing else but smile, and smack the fucker on the head.


	15. And Eat It Too

"Well?"

….

…….

……….

"I said, 'WELL?'"

"Um,…..what the hell is that?"

"It's a CAKE, you Asshole!"

….

…….

……….

"No its not."

"What? It is too!"

"Listen, you idiot, I'm a chef. I've been one practically all my life. I know a cake when I see one, and that is not a cake."

Zoro looked like he was about to turn AbsoltelyFuckingHomicidal, which was a world away from the eager and sorta hopeful look he wore when he had first approached the cook, holding out his . . . pan of….stuff. Nevertheless, Sanji felt that this was a point he couldn't let go. Deciding to try a different approach then the one he usually used with the swordsman, Sanji took a deep breath, and continued in what he felt was a reasonable voice.

"I mean, for one thing, cakes don't usually smell like horse vomit."

Zoro paled, and stared at him in something akin to horror. The blonde wasn't sure if that meant that this new approach was working or not, but he decided to stick with it, and added in what he felt was a rather helpful manner,

"Besides, cakes are, you know, solids. That there is a liquid. A gross brown chunky liquid. I mean, are you sure it's not actually hor—"

"IT'S NOT HORSE VOMIT, YOU GODDMAN UNGRATEFUL ASSHOLE!"

Sanji was taken back by the outburst, not expecting that sort of reaction when he was being so reasonable and so helpful. Then, just before he started yelling back, something snagged his attention.

"Wait, did you say 'ungrateful'? Is this c, er, stuff for me?"

Zoro sighed, and suddenly looked slumped and tired.

"Yeah, well, it was your birthday last week, and no one made you one, and there was a cooking class in the town we were in this afternoon…."

Sanji just stared at him.

"Let's just forget it. It's stupid. I'll just throw it over the side—"

Before he had the chance, Sanji's hands shot out, and snatched the pan from him. He held it protectively against his chest, hardly caring when brown stinky goop sloshed over the side and onto his shirt.

"No! I want it! Its mine!"

Hating how his face suddenly burned, he found himself staring hard at the wooden floor beneath his feet. Neither man said a word for a very long time, and Sanji started to feel uncomfortable as the warm chunky liquid began to sink through the thin fabric of his shirt to find skin. The smell was making his eyes water.

After a while, still unable to look at Zoro, he mumbled, "Thank you."

"Whatever, Asshole. You don't even like it."

Sanji's eyes snapped up at that, and he looked at Zoro who was glaring at him with a tight frown.

"Well, I mean, I just wasn't expecting it, or anything!"

"That's because it was a fucking surprise."

"Apparently, it worked, you seaweed-headed DICK. I was pretty fucking surprised!"

"Just shut the fuck up, and get rid of that! You don't want it!"

"YES I DO! I WANT IT! I want it, and its MINE, and you MADE it for me, so why don't you just FUCK OFF and let me DRINK my goddamn CAKE in peace!"

Zoro's eyes widened at the outburst, and then shifted to focus on wall over Sanji's left shoulder. Another uncomfortable silence began to stretch, until Sanji sighed, and in a smaller voice said,

"You didn't have to."

Zoro grunted, and his eyes stayed where they were.

"But it was…..nice. Very nice. A nice cake. You're, uh, nice."

There was a pause, and then a deep bark of laughter.

"Am I, Sanji-kun? Am I a 'nice boy' for making you that 'nice' cake?"

"No, you're an ugly bastard!"

Unbothered by the accusation, Zoro kept grinning at him, and Sanji had little choice but to give in and smile back at the infuriating son of a bitch.

"I meant what I said, Asshole. You didn't have to do this."

His grin turned sly.

"Besides, you already gave me a birthday present, remember?"

Zoro shook his head, colored a bit, but kept smiling,

"You're a perverted little Love Cook."

"Are you complaining? Because, you know, I don't remember you complaining before. But, you were making a lot of noise, so I may have missed it."

Zoro rolled his eyes, but did not debate the point.

Sanji chuckled, and held out the pan between them.

"So, do you want to eat my cake with me?"

"Oh, FUCK NO."


	16. Crushes

"You're fucking pathetic."

An acquainted tongue swept slowly down and between his tender-tense divide of inner thigh. The motion was both playful and sensual; so much like the young man taking his pleasure between Smoker's parted legs.

"You're not going to say anything to that?"

Ace raised his head and shifted himself further up the larger man's naked body. He rested his forearms across the broad brutal stretch of chest and bent his head to kiss sharply at the only empty edge of nicotine stained lips.

"I didn't know it was a question."

"It wasn't. I just thought that you might make an attempt to try and deny it, or argue, or something."

Ace moved down slightly and nipped mildly at the center of Smoker's breastbone, and again with increased intention.

"Would you have believed me if I denied it?"

"Shit, no."

"Then no point, right? Seemed stupid."

Smoker closed his eyes for a moment and sucked deeply on the cigar chomped securely in the corner of his mouth. He rolled his hips slightly, bringing his sex closer to the torrid flesh above him, nearly hissing at the lush acrid contact.

"I saw you looking at that skinny blonde boy earlier today in the square. He didn't look anything like your little crush, you know. Wasn't nearly pretty enough."

Ace pulled himself up and smirked. The expression made Smoker want to hit him. It also made him want to fuck him. He would have to see how the rest of the night played out.

"Are_ you_ going to lecture _me_ on crushes?"

His voice dropped down to a coltish whisper.

"Luffy–"

Smoker shifted suddenly, pressing the pirate narrowly beneath him. There was no more talk of cooks, crushes, or captains for the remainder of the night.


	17. Secrets

With an exasperated sigh, Sanji finally broke the tense silence.

"I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it. I mean, if it happened to anyone else besides a giant dip-shit like you, the whole thing would be rather…cute."

"CUTE?"

Sanji waved his cigarette at the other man in a dismissive manner.

"But, like I said, your complete and utter dipshitness kills any cuteness right off the bat."

Zoro crossed his arms and quickly nodded his head.

"Well, I should hope so!"

Sanji took a long pull of smoke into his lungs to hide his grin before continuing.

"So you're ticklish—"

"I am NOT."

The blonde rolled his eyes.

"Zoro, I heard the giggle."

"I DO NOT GIGGLE!"

"Yeah, whatever. I suppose someone just dumped a pre-pubescent hyena into bed with us."

"This whole thing is your perverted fault! What the hell was your mouth doing down there anyway?"

Sanji gave Zoro a look, and the other man flushed brightly. The blonde noted the reaction with interest.

"You're ticklish, you giggle, and you blush." Sanji regarded the other man carefully through narrowed eyes, "What other girly secrets are you hiding?"

"I'll KILL you, you bastard cook!"

Sanji stayed uncharacteristically calm in the face of Zoro's threat. Not breaking eye contact with the enraged man (who was, by the way, still blushing), he calmly said,

"Try it, and I'll tell."

Then, for effect, he added,

"I'll tell Nami."

Sanji clamped down on another grin as he watched the swordsman pale and back away.

"You wouldn't." he whispered.

Sanji's smile said that he absolutely would.

Zoro glared hotly.

"I'll get you for this, Cook."

Sanji snickered as the other man turned and stomped below deck, and knew that the next few days were geared to be interesting ones.


	18. Be Careful What You Wish For

"Its your own fault, you know."

"I'll kill you if you keep saying that."

Sanji's long drag on his cigarette unsuccessfully hid his smirk.

"Fuck you, Cook. And it's not my fault! Who would actually do something like that?"

"Ace."

"Well, I didn't think –"

"That's fairly obvious, you idiot. You just _had_ to challenge him like that."

"I didn't—that wasn't—he was in my spot! Everyone knows that I take a nap there everyday in the afternoon at the same exact time. That perverted asshole was just laying there, all asleep and shit!"

"So you woke him up? Rather then finding another place for one of your many stupid little power naps."

"Yes I DID. It was my spot! He should have just moved when I asked him, instead of laying there arguing with me."

Sanji bit his lip to stop from laughing. The attempt failed miserably.

"And, uh, then what did you say?"

Zoro turned beet red, and looked at the deck. Sanji had no desire to be merciful.

"Didn't you say, 'Kiss my ass!'?"

"I wasn't expecting him to…HE'S SICK! Sick I tell you!"

"And fast, too!" Sanji added helpfully.

"Yeah, well that perverted fuck can't run forever."


	19. Close to Perfection

You almost miss it when that first drop of perspiration escapes and runs down the jut of collar bone, but you catch it with your tongue when it reaches his shoulder, and you find yourself biting against the dark inked patterns there which you find absurd, the way he is absurdity and challenge and all things which are want in this world.

He does not belong to you, no more than you belong to him, and that is as close to perfection as this night is ever meant to be. You take it for what it is, you take it with greedy fingers which pull and dig and push against and into that hidden wanton ring of muscle that arches his back and opens him up.

His hair is a tangled mess, curling against flush and freckles that may have seemed to you endearing and boyish if you weren't fucking him slow and angry, if your fingernails weren't drawing beads of blood along the vulnerable inside of parted thighs.

In the morning, you will never speak about this, and all things will move forward. For now, his moans and pants and the painful dig of his heel into the dip of your lower back are pockets of time, full of pause and promise, but pass on just the same.


	20. Debt

"You owe me, Zoro! If it wasn't for my prodding, then you two idiots would still be bitching and bickering at each other, instead if well, doing all that and having sex, too."

"You already got something out of that, bitch! You and your stupid little camera, remember? You – you – you Porn Queen!"

Zoro's faced flushed as he remembered finding her copy of _Great Men of the High Seas: Boys Love Edition_ by accident, and seeing the pictures of him and the cook wrapped around each other. Naked.

"Pervert!"

She rolled her eyes at his accusation.

"Listen, if you and Sanji-kun insist on getting it on wherever the mood strikes you, you'll just have to accept the possibility that somebody may be around innocently taking pictures of the ship. If anything, it is _I_ who should be mad at _you_ for getting in my shot!"

"You didn't have to send them into that filthy porno magazine!"

"First of all, it is not a 'filthy porno magazine', it is an informative art publication that tastefully discusses and displays the beauty of the male form. Secondly, the day you start to bring in _any_ money to this ship, is the day you can offer criticism to the way that I do it!"

"My answer is still 'no', you deviant woman."

Nami pretended to pick lint off the top of her skirt. She spoke in a bored tone without looking at the swordsman.

"Well, that's a shame. If you won't help me carry supplies in port, then I'll just have to ask Sanji-kun. But, since he can't carry as much as you, it will take much longer. All night, perhaps."

"All night? But he and I rented a room and – "

Nami raised a smart eyebrow. Zoro clenched his fists.

"Stupid Love Cook!"


	21. Just Playing

It didn't happen when Sanji pressed his tongue flat and firm and dragged it slick and heavy along the tender fold of Zoro's inner thigh. Nor did it happen when he bit along the absurd line of seaweed hair beneath the navel then downward, and this was surprising since Zoro had always keened low and deep and desperate when Sanji had scrapped along the rough curly patch. This, more than anything, convinced the cook that the bastard was taking this far more seriously than intended. He snorted in irritation when he pulled up to kiss fiercely against the tight mouth and pushed inside to taste copper warmth.

_Competitive asshole_.

It happened about an hour later, when Sanji had found echo of an old bruise cut sharply across the swordsman's hip. He fixed his mouth along the discolored outer edge and sucked. Zoro's hand reached down to move Sanji's head away as his scarred body twisted tautly against the damp sheets, but stopped before he touched yellow hair. He could not push the tormenting pressure away; it was against the rules. So instead his pants grew loud and labored, until he was no longer able to hold back a single low grunt.

Sanji grinned at the sound, and finally pulled away.

"See there, you pathetic bastard?" he taunted.

"So fucking what?" Zoro panted. "It's not like you're winning or anything. We're tied right now, but I'm still going to beat you."

Sanji smacked Zoro's thigh in annoyance.

"Oi, Asshole, this is just a game, remember? You don't have to take it all serious and shit."

"So, you're giving up you weak little Love Cook?"

Sanji's anger flared at the mocking challenge.

"Fuck you!"

He flopped back on the bed and spread his legs.

"Go ahead! Give it your best shot, Fucker."


	22. Satisfaction

'How about Lufffy?'

Zoro stilled, and Ace almost screamed at the sudden loss of movement. The swordsman's brow creased in a tight frown as he glared down at him, so Ace wrapped his legs tighter around the solid waist and squeezed hard to shove himself further onto the other man's dick.

A low rough groan was pulled from the back of Zoro's throat, and then Ace was being fucked in short sharp irritated thrusts. His body was being jostled further up the creaking bed, and Ace laughed softly the first time his head struck against the back wall.

Not wanting to lose consciousness just yet, he reached back to brace himself with his hands. He started panting in pace with Zoro's thrusts, and his body burned as it was bent nearly in half. Zoro was not letting up or slowing down despite the other man's obvious discomfort, and Ace knew himself to be a slut for liking this kind of discourtesy.

His breath was nearly knocked from him as the pace picked up suddenly, viscously, and he was mildly surprised when Zoro reached down to grip him tightly in a thick callused fist to bring them off together.

A large sated body hung above him for a moment before it dropped down on the ruined bed. Ace's lungs ached as he pulled in long gasps of warm sex-scented air before speaking.

"You never answered my question, you know."

There was a tight pause. Zoro rolled away and faced the wall.

"I'm not sleeping with your brother."

"That wasn't the question. The question was would you like to?"

"You're an even bigger idiot than he is, you know."

Ace ran his hand up the sweat slicked back which was tight and rigid with tension.

"And you're not playing the game right. Just answer the fucking question."

"I don't play stupid games."

Ace laughed.

"You don't sleep with Luffy, and you don't play games. What do you do, swordsman, besides fuck me?"

The silence stretched out so long this time that Ace was sure that the other man was either ignoring him or had fallen asleep. It was quite possibly a combination of the two. He considered getting up and going out to find something to eat, before he decided that he was actually pretty tired himself after the night's activities, so he closed his eyes and almost immediately started to drift off.

"Its not like that."

Ace didn't respond to the quiet words. He wasn't supposed to.

"Its more."

Ace wet his dry smirking lips, relaxed his cooling body into the tangled damp sheets, and finally tasted satisfaction.


	23. The Way Inside

Sanji's skin was finally starting to cool, his vocal chords easing to their normal stretch, his heart had dropped to a more reasonable rate, and Zoro was holding his hand.

It wasn't the sort of girly hand holding that was only acceptable if at least one of the participants had breasts. If it had been, Sanji would have had to kick the girly bastard in the head, hard, in order to knock the pansiness straight out of him.

Zoro was holding Sanji's right hand between both of his; the palm open and up. Every few minutes, a thick callused thumb traced the raise of white tissue in the center. It was one of Sanji's oldest scars. He had gotten it slicing vegetables in the Baratie's kitchen when Zeff had first started to train him to become a real chef. The Shitty Old Man had seen the blood and immediately kicked him between the shoulders for his carelessness, and threatened him with worse if Sanji bled into the soup.

"This is my favorite one."

Zoro's voice startled the cook from his thoughts. Sanji smirked, but didn't pull his hand free.

"You're a perverted bastard. Getting off on scars."

Zoro looked at him for a moment, green eyes darkened with odd intent, and pulled the hand up to his mouth to trace the line with a long swipe of his tongue. Parts of Sanji that were previously done for the night, reconsidered.

"It's the most you." The swordsman spoke low against Sanji's palm, dropping his gaze. "It's the way inside."

The cook had no idea what he meant, but his body understood the dark tones in Zoro's voice, the hot breath against his hand, and he hooked a leg beneath the other man's to bring them closer.


	24. Repeat

_This shouldn't be happening again. This is a mistake._

It's the same set words each time working their way through the marine captain's mind with each push and kiss and bite to skin. The kid beneath him, the _pirate_, grunts and grins and licks a crooked line from his collar to the edge of his chin. Even that tongue is a sadistic streak of fire striking against his flesh and he groans from the torrid force of the seduction.

He works his hands beneath the boy and digs the blunt edges of his fingernails into inked flesh and pulls against the hated mark; a beg for ownership from a man who begs for nothing.

This complication does not belong within his ordered life. He does not need protocol to tell him the huge mistake he makes each time he pulls the pirate into his bed. But his control fails time and time again; his control has turned to want and need and he gives into the error found in carnal circumstance.

That next time he will resist is a lie that he tells himself but does not believe, and he punishes Ace by pulling him down and fucking him with anger and resentment and insatiable want.


	25. Accidents and Understanding

"It was more like an accidental fuck."

"…really."

"Er, well, a series of accidental fucks."

"Really."

"…yes."

"So, let me make sure that I understand this fully, Sanji-kun. There you were, walking around one day, minding your own business, when you just kind of tripped over him. And then insertion happened. _Acidental _insertion."

"Um. More or less?"

"Let's go for more, shall we? Be as explicit as possible."

"Nami-san! There's no reason to go into detail, is there? I mean, I would not wish to offend your delicate and always charming feminine sensibilities."

"I don't mind, Sanji-kun. Offend away. Who tops?"

"Oh, well, is that a tape recorder?"

"Zoro is a screamer, isn't he? I mean he looks like the type to be all silent except for the occasional low-key grunt, but I've always found that looks can be deceiving."

"Nami-san, I'm begging you –"

"Robin is a screamer, you know. It was kind of a surprise at first."

"Hyuher…"

"Now, Vivi-chan was a giggler. That was something that I thought that I would find annoying, you know? But goddamn, the sight of her all flushed and naked stretch out across my bed laughing low and secret in the back of her throat just drove me absolutely _wild_. I couldn't get enough. There was this one time last summer when we had been going at it for what had to be at least a good hour and….Sanji-kun, sit down before you fall down. And for the love of god, _breathe_. Maybe you should try putting your head between your knees."

"Nam….nur.."

"There, there. Just take your time and relax. After all, we have all afternoon and I have plenty of tape."


	26. Affirmation

Anyone who knew him knew that he could sleep anywhere, anytime, under pretty much any circumstance. Through storm or disaster or Usopp's most congested snoring, if there was sleeping to be done, then he was damn sure doing it. Other than the sword, his ability to sleep was the skill in which he took the greatest possible pride.

Except right now he was tired, _unbelievably_ so, and he was unable to sleep because it hadn't happened yet. His eyes were opened and glaring in the darkness at the mess of blonde hair on the pillow beside him. The shitty cook was laying there, unmoving and apparently unconcerned that since he hadn't done what he was _suppose_ to do, the man who had just generously supplied him with a fairly good stretch of energetic sex was unable to sleep.

Pissed to the point of distraction, he was a little startled when a familiar hand reached out and lazily dropped across his chest. It shifted slightly, softly, until it found the strike of raised skin standing as a prominent thing. Long fingers edged with sharp callous raised from different circumstance than the ones on his own hands, but with equal devotion, traced around the closed wound. They moved slowly, carefully, with blind examination, as if confirming that the life inside stayed sealed. Starting at the point low on his belly they slid up searching for danger or proof or something else, before stopping above where his heart beat beneath.

Just like every night since they had first tumbled down into whatever this was, Zoro closed his eyes not thinking about reasons or explanations, not thinking about the warm press of possession tracking the steady rhythm of his body, and _finally_, was able to sleep.


	27. Persuasion

The first time that Ace had suggested it, Smoker scowled deeper, grunted his dismissal, and then fucked Ace roughly against the well-worn mattress. The pirate let the subject drop to concentrate on the feel of cloth beneath his back, the raw slick burn between his thighs, and the smoky skin between his teeth.

The next time he merely sneaked into the marine captain's bathroom while the other man was out. He left a trail of clothing across the bedroom floor trailing to the tub in which he waited, naked and soapy, and watched the small yellow rubber duck that he had brought with him float across the warm water.

He heard the approach of footsteps, heavy with anger and something else, stalk towards the small steamy room. When the door banged open and Smoker stood glaring at the naked pirate, Ace grinned and nodded down toward the space between his bent open knees.

"Hey, Old Man. Take a look at my duckie."

When the distance between them closed and large hands reached to pull him from the water, Ace was ready, and quickly twisted one leg out of the water and hooked it beneath Smoker's right knee sending him tumbling. The pirate laughed as the marine cursed and struggled for balance, and they wound up rolling as water sloshed over the curved edge of tub. Ace straddled the other man and pulled Smoker's drenched jacket off while grinding insistently down against the marine's groin.

"Come on, Old Man. Fuck me in your tub, just once. You'll like it…"

The clothed erection pressing up against his naked bottom dismissed any protest that the older man may have made, so instead, he pulled Ace against him and growled his condition.

"Just get rid of the _fucking duck_, Brat."


End file.
